


Not the Fall that Kills You

by tengreycats



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (Well not that soft they're very bitter and self destructive), Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism, Chara Is Their Own Warning, Chara as a Nuanced Abuse Survivor, Gen, Other heavy subjects, PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), Past Child Abuse, Platonic Charisk, Self Harm, Soft Chara, Suicide, Underage Drinking, cptsd (complex post traumatic stress disorder)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tengreycats/pseuds/tengreycats
Summary: It’s not the fall that kills you- it’s the landing. Despite this, when a child in a green and yellow sweater “falls” several hundred feet into the heart of a mountain, they wake up.(Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!)





	1. Chapter 1

    They spit blood and a few Gaelic curse words out of their mouth, before deciding that speaking isn’t worth the effort. Chara spends some time like that, laying in the dirt, wallowing in their own misery for a minute or fifty, trying to work up the urge to say… Anything else, really.

    “There go my five unbroken bones,” they finally murmur to themself, wheezing an attempt at a laugh before the pain in their ribs and their back and _everywhere else_ firmly shuts them up. How have they not died? They didn’t even know how they made it up the _mountain_ with all these injuries, much less how they survived such a long drop.

    _“Can you speak English?”_ That startles them into jerking up into a sitting position, and they whip their head around, left arm twitching for the knife shoved into their belt before it remembers it’s broken and joining the rest of their body in protesting the movement. Chara ignores that in favor of gawping at the literal _ghost_ in front of them.

    They’re a kid, a bit older than they are. Their skin is light brown, their hair is dark brown, and their happy tone doesn’t match the deadpan expression on their face. Other Kid is wearing a striped sweater too, but theirs is blue and purple, worn under overalls, and is in notably better shape than the torn, ripped piece of junk Chara’s wearing. Other Kid sticks out a hand, and Chara looks down at it, then back up at them.

    “I can, and I am pretty sure both of my arms are broken, or sprained, or something of that nature. Also, you’re… I doubt we could shake hands.”

    _“Oh, right. Sorry. Um, my name’s Frisk!”_ As Other Kid Who’s Name Is Really Frisk talks, they do little signals with their hands. It’s pretty interesting to watch, at least.

    _“Toriel should come along soon. She checks the RUINS every day for humans that fall down.”_ They say that like Chara has any idea who the hell Toriel is, but hey, points for trying- and for clarifying that someone’s going to find their useless, mostly ruined fleshsack.

“Alright then. Pleased to meet you, Frisk, but I want to see if I can walk.” They take a few deep breaths, and get on all fours.

    _“Really? Isn’t your, like, everything broken?”_ The kid asks skeptically, and Chara nods, bringing one knee up, then the other. Deep breaths in through the nose, out through the mouth. Pain is just a feeling. They’ve had worse.

    And then, they stand. Their body is screaming at them, but they stand.

    _“There’s a stick over here,”_  Frisk calls, waving them over to the far wall of the cave. Chara limps over, slowly bends over, and picks it up. Takes a few steps, leaning heavily on the sturdy piece of wood, breathing deeply all the while. At least they don’t have to reshingle a fucking roof or anything, not today. All they need to do is walk.

    And so, they pass through the archway, their new guide floating beside them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: When Chara says "southern american", they mean Texan. They do not remember where or what Texas is. To them, a Southern accent is completely different.

There’s a flower. With a face. It’s looking at them.

Chara takes a step to the left. Its eyes follow. They take a step to the right. Its eyes follow again. They glance to Frisk, who isn’t looking at them, arms crossed.

“What fresh new bugfuckery is this?” They say to themself in their native tongue, and the flower looks confused.

“Uh… Ya speak English, pal?” 

The flower has a  _ fucking Southern American accent, which Chara only knows about from crappy Bible movies. _

“I’m dead, right? I’m dead, and this is my own confusing personal Hell,” they say, half directed at the flower and half-directed at any powers that be that are currently watching and laughing at them. The flower has the audacity to look  _ annoyed _ at that.

“Hilarious. You’re in the Underground. I was gonna do this whole bit where I explain what a SOUL is, and what LOVE is, and then I was gonna totally kill you with my awesome friendliness pellets, but you just went and ruined it. Now I’m not even gonna do the scary face!” It practically pouted. Suddenly, the world turned black and white, their surroundings fading into what looked like a grid behind the flower. A red heart shaped…  _ Thing _ emerged from their chest, which Chara eyes dubiously. 

“That’s your SOUL, it’s the culmination of your being, it’s weak but if you kill stuff it gets stronger, blah blah blah. Die.” A ring of bullets surrounded the heart, and Chara had enough. Perhaps this is what they needed, to die by the strange magic that kept them alive in the first place. When the little white bits began closing in, they stepped into the side, the heart following their motions. 

They woke up in the other room again. Where they fell. Great. Letting out an extended groan of misery, they got up, limping over to fetch their stick, then limping back to deal with this stupid flower again. It raised an… Eyebrow ridge? Or… Something. It raised a weirdly eyebrow-esque structure on its face.

“Guess you’re the one with the most determination for now, huh. Must think you’re a reeeaaal hotshot. Whatever. We’ll see who the  _ real _ winner is, once you get to the end of this timeline! You’ll certainly give up!” It giggled, and Chara was  _ this _ close to just stomping on the thing.

“Oh, fuck off,” they replied. The flower looked at them like they had personally killed its flower mommy, scandalized, then vanished into the ground.

“And  _ stay down, _ you rat bastard,” they added, and had hardly taken another step before their brain fried itself completely.

A bipedal goat in a purple robe with some weird symbol on it entered the doorway.

_ “That’s Toriel,” _ Frisk said, abandoning the sudden silence they had with Flowey.

“Greetings! I am TORIEL, caretaker of the RUINS.” She went on a long speech to explain what the Ruins  _ were, _ but Chara was too busy focusing on not succumbing to pain as she went on, only pausing when they stumbled and cursed, clearly taken aback.

“... My child? Are you alright…?” 

“I think I broke nearly all the bones in my body,” Chara replied, before their eyes rolled back in their head and they promptly blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Discussions of suicide and child abuse, and hints to alcoholism and underage drinking.

They woke up in a bed. That was unusual. Everything still hurt, but less. Also unusual. They were in their underclothes. Not too unusual. They needed a drink. That was a constant.

_ “You’re finally up! You’ve been out for, like, three days,”  _ Frisk began.  _ “The Royal Scientist and resident human expert Alphys had to come see you, she said you should probably be like quadriplegic or something with all these injuries. Sorry about your privacy but, y’know, doctors. They had to make sure you weren’t bleeding internally or something. I didn’t look! I wasn’t born in a barn. But anyways, um…”  _ They suddenly trailed off, as if their train of thought veered off the tracks and over a cliff.

_ “... Can I ask you something?”  _ Frisk begins, and Chara sighs.

“You just did,” they point out, “but go on.”

_ “Did you jump? Or did you fall? It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”  _

Chara chewed that question over, weighing the pros and cons of telling the truth. It’d be nice to tell someone, especially since the source of the problem’s not going to bother them anymore, but do they  _ really _ need to go digging all that shit up? 

Then again… Who would Frisk tell?

“I did both, really. I was trying to walk towards the edge and close my eyes and let myself fall, but I tripped. Made a bit of an arse of myself there. Why?” They glance over at Frisk, who’s tugging a lock of their curly hair absentmindedly.

_ “I did, too. Nobody at home would’ve missed me.”  _ They say it nonchalantly, their face is as stoic as ever, but Chara sees the way they pull at that curl of hair like a lifeline and avoid looking at them.

“That sucks, mate,” Chara replied, then inwardly kicked themself, feeling like an utter fool. But Frisk huffed out a barely-there laugh, nodding once.

_ “You said it. Um… M- Toriel’s gonna have some questions once she comes in, though. It’ll be about… Y’know.” _

“The bruises, the fact that my ribs are an effective pencil holder, the brand, the scars, the scabs, the broken bones?” Chara’s smile was as jagged and raw as a cut from a rusted knife, and Frisk flinched, looking away. 

“No need to feel bad, it’s not your fault,” they mumbled, trying not to feel bad, and doing a poor job of it. They sighed softly, looking up at the ceiling. It was nice, to be in a bed. Blankets sure are grand! They decided to savor the comfort while it lasted, shifting deeper into the beds before realizing something with a start. Sitting up despite their ribs, they grabbed at their waist, searching themself with increasing panic.

“Where is it, where the fuck  _ is _ it?!” Hissed Chara, and Frisk floated over to them, more than a little concerned.

_ “Where’s what?”  _ Frisk asked, as Chara let out a small noise of distress. They sighed, head dropping into their hands.

“My knife,” they replied. “I… I  _ need  _ to have it, it’s… It’s  _ mine. _ ” God, they sounded pathetic even to themself, but before they could do much of anything about it, there was a soft knock at the door. At least the diary was still on the makeshift nightstand of an old footstool. 

“May I come in, my child?” Toriel asked politely, a far cry from the usual door slamming open that Chara was more or less used to. 

“Yes, ma’am,” they called, making their best effort to sit up as the goat monster entered the room. She was quick to move over, gently telling them to lay back down, Chara obeying without question. Toriel carefully sat on the bed, avoiding Chara’s legs.

“It is my understanding that you’ve come from… A harsh environment,” she began, looking at the child expectantly. 

“I… Agree, that my former home could be… Called that. May I ask where you put my knife?” They asked, and Toriel paused.

“It’s a very dangerous item for a child to have.” She finally said, choosing her words with a nervous sort of delicacy.

“Danger and I are old friends. I understand that neither you nor any other monster intend to threaten or attack me, but…” Chara put their most vulnerable look on their face, “I don’t feel safe without it. Please, ma’am.” 

At that, Toriel relented. She produced the small utility knife from… Somewhere, likely a pocket of her robes, and set it down on top of the leather bound journal. Chara sighed in visible relief, smiling up at Toriel in the least creepy way they possibly could. 

“Thank you very much, for that and for taking care of me.” 

Toriel brushed their hair away from their face, with a touch so gentle it made Chara’s heart pang for their mother. They looked away, shoving the wound that would never heal to the back of their mind. What they wouldn’t do for a fifth of vodka.

“You’re very welcome, dear. Please, rest- I’ll do what I can with my healing magic, though its effect is very limited on non-magical injuries.” Chara didn’t think they’d be able to sleep, but as soon as Toriel left and their head hit the pillow, they were out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide attempt, descriptions of violence.

It was so  _ bizarre, _ waking up in a bed. Toriel wasn’t there, but Frisk was. 

“What time is it?” They asked the spectre quietly. Frisk looked up, startled, then stuck their head through the wall to check. 

_ “Around midnight?” _

“Is Toriel still awake?” Chara needed to get the hell out of dodge. Clearly, the goat lady was trying very hard to keep them alive, and this was an unfortunate roadblock in Chara’s plan to finally terminate their existence with extreme prejudice.  _ Somewhere God couldn’t see, _ they remembered thinking, but they’d take a simple knife to the throat at this point.

Speaking of which…

When they look at the knife, something inside them  _ burns _ , red-hot and full of… Something.

_ “The thought of your death fills you with DETERMINATION! Game SAVEd.”  _ Frisk chirps, then gives Chara a very worried look. They open their mouth, but before they can get a word out, Chara’s knife is in their neck. Seconds later, they were coughing, taking gurgling breaths. The door slammed open, and everything went dark.

Chara woke up in their bed.

“Damnit! Bloody damnit all straight tae Hell an’ back, mother  _ fucker! _ ” Chara wanted to punch a wall. They wanted to punch a person. They were half-tempted to get up and suffer the pain of walking for the sole purpose of finding a person, and decking them.

_ “You done?”  _ Frisk asked, eyebrows raised. They didn’t even bother to look, choosing instead to thrust the back of their hand at them, index and middle finger raised.

_ “... What?” _ The confusion in their voice gave Chara another thing to groan about. 

“What, then, is this how you lot do it?” They sniped, folding their index finger down.

_ “Yep. Okay, so: what the hell was that?! You just slit your own goddamn throat!”  _ Ah, so the realization had settled in. 

“Really? I was simply trying to scratch my back! Oops.” Frisk scowled at them, which was a kind of hilarious face on them considering how downright pinchable their cheeks looked. Chara had stared down worse. Frisk blinked and looked away first, which was kind of stupid in Chara’s opinion because they don’t even  _ need _ to blink.

_ “... You’re… Really hurt, aren’t you?” _ The other asked quietly. 

“No, I broke all of my bones and I am totally fine,” Chara deflected. The other child didn’t rise to the bait, simply sighing and turning away. This time, Chara didn’t feel as bad. Ask a stupid question, right?

… Right?

They didn’t have time for this, so they got up and out of the bed. Were they in extreme pain? Yes. Was it worse than the usual extreme pain? Not really. 

Pain’s just a feeling. 

Feelings can be ignored.

_ “What are you DOING?!”  _ The yelling  _ right next to Chara’s goddamn eardrums _ made them wince, and they shot Frisk a withering glare.

“Leaving,” came the short response. They went to pick up their clothes, then hesitated, deciding to rummage through the closet instead. Lots of striped sweaters in here. Chara hesitated, then picked a black and grey one- it’d mean they’d have to wash it less- and a pair of pants that fit them decently well with their belt, some socks, another pair of socks, and finally pulling on their worn trainers.

_ “Toriel’s not gonna be happy,”  _ tried Frisk, and Chara felt an underwhelming indifference.

“I don’t care. I’m  _ done _ catering to the adults in my life,” they spat, then opened the door. Mercifully, they heard snoring from the other room. With catlike stealth, they crept downstairs to the basement, then down the hallway.

The door loomed over them.

_ “The intimidating door fills you with DETERMINATION! Game saved,” _ Frisk said, and Chara didn’t know or care what that meant for them. With a shove that made at least half of their body probably re-break, they opened the door… And there was that  _ goddamn _ flower.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> be careful w this one. discretion advised

Yes, it was snow. Under the mountain, which was apparently somewhere in America, somehow. The trees were taller than they could see, the snow dense and wet as they scooped some off of a nearby bush. In the process, they realized with a start, they were being… Filmed? What the  _ hell? _ They flipped the camera off the way Americans apparently do, taking the camera out and setting it down facing the wall. 

The path was somewhat dark, due to the trees, and the trees were some of the tallest Chara has ever seen. Despite this, they were more comfortable limping through the woods than they’d been since their suicide got bungled. It made them a little bit homesick. The numbing cold of the snow, the beauty of the woods… Lost in thought, they nearly tripped over the massive branch.

“Who left this here? Do monsters have anyone to clear the roads?” They asked, inspecting the branch.

_ “Usually. This must’ve fallen recently. It’s far too heavy to pick up.” _ Naturally, Chara tried to pick it up, and let out an involuntary noise of pain as their back and ribs and legs and arms told them exactly how bad of an idea that was. So, they kept walking, towards a… Bridge? With… Bars, that very ineffectively blocked the front? They squinted, taking a step closer, then froze when they heard a loud CRACK. Slowly, they forced themself to turn, staring at an empty road and a now-broken branch

Their knife went into their left hand, its handle familiar and safe, their grip tightening when they heard someone approach. Deliberately, they relaxed their shoulders, and waited.

**“H u m a -”** the figure behind them began, and Chara whipped around, slashing wildly. The figure jumped back with surprising agility, putting its hood down as Chara backed up, eyes frantic. It was a small, fat skeleton with two white dots of light in its eyesockets. 

“Hey, woah! You get right to the  _ point _ , then, don’t ya?” The figure’s eye turned blue for a moment, but then flicked back to white, along with his second eye.

“Huh. Dunno who the hell you are, kid, but you got 5 LOVE without killing any monsters, except almost me.”

“I… Apologize,” Chara began warily. “In my defense, you intimidated me, and I could not know your intentions. I acted rashly, as I feared they would be harmful.” It was hard to get the words out. They barely managed to shove their knife back in their belt without accidentally shanking themself, their vision began to tunnel, and they were acutely aware of their heartbeat. They weren’t scared, they  _ refused _ to acknowledge that emotion, especially since the cause was from a walking Halloween decoration that seems to have had too many burgers. 

“Nah. I was just gonna get you with a whoopee cushion in the hand trick, we’d laugh, then I’d talk about my cool brother who wants to capture a human.” The… What? Chara didn’t even try to process that, instead focusing on grounding themself. Their hand went into their pocket, and they rubbed their thumb along the spine of their journal. The skeleton, for his part, waited patiently for a response. 

“How unfortunate for him, as I am something different entirely.” Sans raised what was  _ definitely _ an eyebrow ridge, but Chara doubted they could do their creepy demon face thing again so soon, so they simply gave him what they hoped was a mysterious smile. The result was probably a somewhat pained grimace. Nevertheless, Sans shrugged, his own fixed smile never leaving his face.

“Well… Either way, he’ll probably be happy.” Chara  _ tried _ to give a shit, but despite everything, it’s still them and therefore they could not. They were, however, mildly curious about the fact that this skeleton monsters would have a family; how on God’s green earth did that work?

_ “Do you actually want to know?”  _ Frisk asked, slightly amused, and Chara suppressed a shudder of revulsion as they walked between the bars. 

“I’m Sans, by the way,” the skeleton added, suddenly right behind them. Chara yelped, whipped around, and their lips pressed into a hard line when they looked at him. His expression only changed very, very slightly, when his smile faltered in a way they wouldn’t’ve noticed had they not spent the previous eight years learning to read people. More like three years, really, they couldn’t exactly do much when they were an infant, but that was beside the point.

“Anyways. My brother’s a human-hunting FANATIC, and you look close enough to being one that I doubt anyone could tell the difference. Now, I have an idea. Go through that gate-thingy, the bars are a bit too wide to stop anyone.” He ushered them through the gate, and they weren’t exactly inclined to dig their heels in the ground- perhaps the skeleton would be a bit less thick than he appeared.

“Quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp,” he prompted, and had Chara not heard approaching footsteps, they would’ve told him  _ exactly _ what they thought of that  _ stupid _ idea. Instead, they sprinted to the shoddy-looking concession stand, diving behind it and scrambling under the counter. Their body resumed its pained howling at them, and they resumed ignoring it in favor of what the new arrival had to say.

“Sup, bro?” Sans asked nonchalantly. So, this was the human hunting fanatic. Chara curled up tighter, fearing the worst.

“YOU KNOW WHAT’S ‘SUP’, BROTHER!” They flinched at the yelling, but the shrill voice…  _ This _ was the human-hunting fanatic? How absurd. Then again, this place didn’t exactly make  _ sense. _

_ “Okay, so, he’s really tall, he’s wearing some… Kinda weird looking armor, and a scarf. He looks kinda like Skeletor? Sounds like him, too.”  _ Thank God for Frisk, being as helpful as ever, even though Chara had no idea who or what a “skeletor” was.

“IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS, AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T…” He paused dramatically.

“RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES!” More puzzles ahead, huh? Chara was always a fan of those. They had an exact solution, and not much of a punishment for failure.

“YOU JUST HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION!” At this point, Chara was already over how loud this skeleton was, and more wished for this entire exchange to be over.

“WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?!” Chara could ask him the same thing. Could he not just get on with it already, and leave Sans- and by extension, themself- be?

“Staring at my guard post. It’s really cool. Do you want to look?” Oh, for God’s sake. If Sans had a windpipe, Chara could have strangled him. The other skeleton, however, paid him no mind- thank goodness.

“NO!” He objected, with all the conviction of one of the pastors- No. No, no, no, those  weren’t a threat any more, but the skeletons’ voices faded out as the old fear crept in.

_ The living room floor, staring at the carpet, so much pain, passages of the Bible falling from their lips obediently, their vision swimming as their starved body tried not to faint because it’d be worse if they did- _ __

_ “CHARA!”  _ Frisk yelled, snapping them out of it. Sans was looking at them with what they guessed was curiosity and maybe… Concern? But, the skeleton said nothing, offering them a hand that they ignored to help them up. Instead, they gave the condiment bottles an evaluating look.

“You hungry, kid?” Sans offered, and Chara gave him a similar look, if not one more suspicious as they stood up on their own. They searched their mind for a snappy retort, found none, but they at least could flip him the V. But, as they raised their arm, fatigue and their own pained muscles overtook them once again, and they could only dizzily register Frisk’s  _ “oh, for Heaven’s sake,”  _ as they felt themself fall.


End file.
